Tags
Assault, Broken heart, Bunnings, Extracting poison, Moving home, Pain, Post-traumatic stress, PTSD, Repressed memories, Trauma
So… perhaps this is what it was all about?
[Imagined conversation with imaginary surgeon dude]:
“Okay Svasti we’ve just gotta take your heart out of your chest for a while. We’ve just spotted another infection and we need to get it out. But sorry, we’ve got to do it right now and… we don’t actually have any instruments with us. So what we’ll do is just rip your heart out of your chest, locate the piece we need to remove and then, it would just be easier if we used our teeth to cut it out. It’s gonna hurt but trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
Whatever, friggin’ Dr. Surgeon! Go ahead and just don’t mind the screams from my aorta whilst you do your thang. So that’s why I’m having a little trouble breathing right and why this incredible tower of rage continues along its merry way? Geez, give a girl some warning next time…
Shit, shit, fucking shit. Stupid-assed crap fucking brain! Why oh why did you choose right now, huh? Why? WHY? Right, because I didn’t have enough going on, what with the moving house, and trying to settle my cat and find the scissors and a clean plate for dinner and shave my legs for Monday. Not to mention my washing machine, which, somewhere between being moved into storage all those months ago and arriving here – has stopped working.
Then ofcourse, there was the trip to Bunnings. I must’ve thrown away my rubbish bin (that’s a trash can for you Yankees) and somehow I lost my broom. And where the hell did my doormat go? Anyways, I’m driving back in my hire car and I realise I’m not gonna make it back by 3pm so I call and they’re cool with me bringing it back in the morning. When…
So. What happened that night, after he’d left, Svasti?
Shit. Shit! Oh, crap. I guess that one got repressed and hadn’t bothered to show its face again til now. Right now in the car driving back to my new place with a brand new broom and flip top bin.
After I caught my breath, after I was sure he’d left and I’d called the police and they’d blown me off… He sent me a text message. “Hey, I’m really sorry about that. But thanks for all of your love”. Furious and sad and scared I fired back:”Don’t you EVER come near me again or I’ll have you arrested you fucking PIG!”
He thanked me – what the fuck?!! He threw me against the wall, punched me in the face and when he finally left after all the shouting, aggression and threats of further violence… he thanked me. WHAT THE FUCK?!!
What was that? Like he lost the plot, smacked me around and thanked me like some sort of prostitute he paid for rough sex? Like it really wasn’t such a big deal, what happened? He thanked me??!!
It’s only small isn’t it? Just a few seconds or minutes…
So why did this cause my heart to be ripped out so roughly? Why is there this big gaping fucking empty space in the center of my chest right now??
I. Don’t. Understand.
Yet.
I’m hurting. I’m hurting. I’m as mad as a cut snake. I’m furious, gulping large breaths of tears and hot fiery heavy oxygen causing pain on the way in and out… There’s no music soundtrack for this. I feel like puking. Am I wearing leaden weights all the sudden? I feel like screaming. I’m trembling, damnit!!! I don’t know what this means yet, I don’t know why it hurts so much. I’m livid, then I’m numb. Then I’m bawling. I’m not okay. I will be okay. But I’m not okay right now…
If anyone sees that surgeon dude, tell him I want my heart back please. I’m off to… unpack some boxes…
~Svasti
Svasti: A Journey From Assault To Wholeness 
I can’t make the pain go away, love, but I can say this: ride it out, let it come, let it bubble forth. It is all part of the healing process. You are doing so well. Just let it come. And if you need to, put some loud music on and scream, hit a pillow, do whatever it takes to let it out. Actually scrubbing and cleaning your new place might do the trick.
I am feeling for you, from so far away. That text message must have been a very difficult thing to remember.
Love and light,
LBG
Wow–at first I thought “oh shit, he must’ve gone back and done something even worse.” Then, to be honest, I thought “what? It was just a text message?” And then, of course, I realized that’s exactly the problem, or part of it, at least. The guy committed a violent crime against you and then, quite literally adding insult to injury, tried to brush it off with an “apology” that would be more appropriate if he’d left dirty dishes in your sink, followed by the further insult of the “thank you” that you discuss. If somebody gets violently angry with you, that, at least, says that you’re a person, and one who can inspire passionate feelings. That message, on the other hand, was an attempt to tell you that you and what you felt are are nothing.
I guess the important thing is to realize that–that this was nothing but a cheap attempt to negate his guilt by negating you. You’re absolutely entitled to your rage, though this guy clearly isn’t worth having any strong emotions expending over him. He’s a small person who wanted to shrink you down to his size.
For a moment, I thought he was back in your life, your face, your inbox …
Hmmm …. Have you thought it might be the moving?
Moving is traumatic … I moved from ‘my house’, a quite, private, leafy place a year ago to ‘our house’ – a strange exposed place on a corner with no leafiness – but with all the things we needed as a combined family … and felt lost.
It felt wrong, I was filled with doubt – and sometimes I still don’t feel like it’s home.
We had vicious fights for the first few months we were here … because I felt so insecure and couldn’t sleep (still have trouble sleeping). There was more traffic, streetlights.
I was scared about actually getting to like the place, about the mortgage, worried that the people who were renting my house would trash it … I went back into depression earlier this year…
Because of moving.
Svasti, Warrior Woman, I agree with your friends above – so fabulous that you allow this to flow forward and come out. You are strong and able to ride this pain so well, and we are here as your witnesses.
Nothing can negate the violent act you experienced – no surprise you didn’t remember the text message at the time. Try try try to know, that he did not touch the True you – he can not touch your spirit, your soul, that heart of yours that that still beats strongly. He hit your physical form, but not your purest essence.
I agree with Amanda – not only are you ‘moving’, which definitely stirs things up (energy=movement=stirring things up!) but didn’t you say you were ‘moving back’? Back to the same neighborhood where the trauma occurred? Symbolically/energetically perhaps you are returning to complete the healing and revealing of the layers you need to uncover.
And after that anger, there is your heart, which may be asking for something more – for forgiveness. Not to him, but to yourself. I know anger, and I know about being a victim, and for me, some pretty great healing has come from for-giving my self, my heart. It helps to bring believing in your judgement again, trusting in yourself again, being fully present again – and truly knowing, You were never wounded. No one has that power, you are holy, whole.
@LBG, Dr Jay, Amanda, Karin…
Well its Tuesday morning now and I’m hanging in there. Its not a simple ‘have a cry and it goes away’ kind of thing, this one…
Thanks for all your comments and a big thank-you-so-very-much-I-really-owe-you-for-the-long-distance-support to… well, you know who you are. xoxo
Yeah, Andre added insult to injury and tried to negate what he’d done with a lame-assed appology… so disempowering, so… insulting. Post-traumatic stress really sucks – makes it feel like I’m right back there in the thick of it.
But I’ve realised that’s not the whole reason this hurts so much. What I’ve discovered is the intense rage I’ve been feeling is the rage I never felt. I have felt horror, fear, sadness, terror and a small, defiant kind of anger. But not this outright fury of the ages…
And I think too, this hidden rage could have something to do with the extra body weight I’ve carried for these last few years. That I haven’t been able to shed no matter how much exercise I’ve done. I think its been the weight of this anger – even though I hurt like all get out right now, I feel so, so much lighter. Weird but true.
So its not so much about what he did as the impact its had on me.
I do think the moving had something to do with the timing. I mean, suddenly I have space of my own again and yeah, moving back to the neighbourhood (I really thought it was all okay and it is for the most part)…
There is definitely a component of self-forgiveness I’m yet to get to. That and learning to trust the world again, including myself.
What’s different this time is that despite the sucking, horrendous weight of these feelings, despite the returned memories and the missing heart I’m determined to not go down this time. I’m here to fight damnit, and I don’t intend to lose another three years of my life.
Namaste one and all!
There is nothing I can write that hasn’t already been written to you with the utmost love and compassion. But I join them, and the many, many others who are silently in the background rooting you on.
Namaste, Svasti, that light is strong.
Believe that your writing helps other women who have serious issues to deal with. That in the midst of your terrible pain other women have able to read you and understand or work our issues of anger and trauma. Namasté!
@Lucy & @Rani – thank you for your kind words. Its tough to say anything much more in response right now that doesn’t sound lame.
But know I’m grateful for all my friends, wherever they are. And for those who don’t know me and yet comment with such lovely thoughts and best wishes.
Its a bit of a battle right now to keep things moving along. But I’m not giving up. No way.
I love your writing, and the idea of the doctor dude. Did you create the image of the xray and heart? Having your heart brutally pulled from you body makes me think of the dissociation I felt after being in a terrible car accident. The doctors were telling me I was fine, but I didn’t feel fine at all – not in my skin. I’m looking forward to reading more. Thank you.
@Jessica – thank you for stopping by and reading some of my posts! No, I didn’t create the image, but I linked to where I found it. I think it very aptly describes how I was feeling at the time. Sounds like you have your own struggles with PTSD and trauma. I’ll be popping over to your blog to read how you’re going. 🙂